I Want You to Mean It
by Wishes on a Broken Stereo
Summary: "When I first lay my eyes on Alexander William Gaskarth, I could have sworn that he was nothing but another example of why some people should never reproduce under any circumstance. Now? Well… Let's just say I'm a bit on the fence about him." All Time Low fanfiction; Jalex, to be exact. Rated T for safety, but subject to change. They seriously need a better category for bandslash.
1. beginning

**Title: **I Want You to Mean It.**  
Fandom: **All Time Low.**  
Pairing(s?): **Alex Gaskarth/Jack Barakat, maybe others as the story progresses.**  
Summary: **When I first lay my eyes on Alexander William Gaskarth, I could have sworn that he was nothing but another example of why some people should never reproduce under any circumstance. Now? Well… Let's just say I'm a bit on the fence about him.  
Rating: T, for now; subject to change.

* * *

**one - beginning. (869 words)**

When I first lay my eyes on Alexander William Gaskarth, I could have sworn that he was nothing but another example of why some people should never reproduce under any circumstance. From what I'd gathered, I'd assumed he was a shameless rebel with a knack for driving people up the wall with his obnoxious attitude. He wore arrogance like a favorite pair of skinny jeans, and if I had to see that smug smirk play at his lips one more time… Although in reality, everyone knew that I'd never have the guts to just go up to somebody and knock their lights out.

I'd hated Alex so much since the moment I met him, and he has never spoken a word to me since he transferred from some fancy private school in Essex. Maybe that's why he thought he was so much better than everybody else - we Americans supposedly go gaga for the Brits, and he knew that so well that he was going to use that as an advantage. So far, his natural European charm, and maybe some other things, has gotten him a top spot on our football team, the head cheerleader on his arm, and a reputation for being one of the most well-liked (yet most-disliked as well) guys around.

Now? Well… Let's just say I'm a bit on the fence about him.

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I could have easily avoided any sort of contact with Alex if we hadn't gotten stuck in the same honors English class. When I saw him in the back corner, looking like he'd rather watch paint dry than sit in the classroom, I was honestly a bit puzzled. My cynicism had apparently overlooked the fact that oh, yeah, Alex is also a straight-A student. Go figure.

Honey eyes darted towards me the moment I stepped in, my checkered Vans squeaking softly against the tiled floor. Something in my chest sparked, heat coursing through my veins as I felt Alex looking at me. I really had no reason to feel apprehensive when he noticed me, yet I wanted to do nothing more than crawl under a rock at that very moment if just to escape his staring.

Nobody else had showed up yet, so I took the opportunity to snag a seat in the middle of the room. Not close enough to the front to be considered an absolute loser, yet not far enough in the back to have to associate with the more raucous of the students that were going to be inhabiting this room at this time every day for a semester.

"Hey, Barakat," he hissed, as if we were in a room crowded with people trying to study instead of one in which he was one of a grand total of two people. "Do I reek or something? Or are you just trying to avoid me?"

Mr. Anderson, our teacher, padded in with an easy smile on his face before I had to answer, much to my relief; he seemed truly happy to be back in the very place most of us called our prison. The balding man glanced around the room at the desks that were slowly filling up before his eyes fell on me.

"Good morning, Mr. Barakat," he greeted warmly. He'd taught my English class my freshman year as well, so he had to have remembered that I was probably one of the only students in that class that didn't give him the desire to fashion a noose out of one of the tacky neckties he wore every day.

"Morning, Mr. A," I replied with a half-smile as I leaned down to pull a binder out of my backpack, although I doubted I would really need it. The first day was always one of the easiest of the year, although it could quite possibly be one of the most stressful as well. "Did you have a good summer?"

The small snort of disdain coming from the back of the classroom was unmistakably Alex's doing, but Mr. Anderson either didn't notice it or merely paid no mind as he answered, "Indeed I did. A wonderful one, even. But now it's time again to hit the books and learn about the literary wonders of the world."

I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes at the unbridled passion and enthusiasm the man had for language and literature. It was sort of inspiring, in a weird way; if only I had something to really put every ounce of my heart and soul into the way he did. I honestly didn't know what I was going to do once I was out of Maryland, now that I thought about it. I had no passion for anything that was going to carry me to the success that my parents so wanted me to have in life.

Before I could get too wrapped up in my thoughts, the rest of the students that I'd be sharing an hour and a half of my day every day for the semester with poured into the room. The bell chimed its existence throughout the entire school, and before I knew it, what would become the most confusing year of my high school life had begun.


	2. accusation

**Title:** I Want You to Mean It.  
**Fandom:** All Time Low.  
**Pairing(s?):** Alex Gaskarth/Jack Barakat, maybe others as the story progresses.  
**Summary:** When I first lay my eyes on Alexander William Gaskarth, I could have sworn that he was nothing but another example of why some people should never reproduce under any circumstance. Now? Well… Let's just say I'm a bit on the fence about him.  
**Rating:** T, for now; subject to change.

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**two - accusation.** (1,040 words)

There had only been about ten minutes left in English, and Mr. Anderson had spent the other eighty trying to outline the semester the best way he could - with PowerPoint presentations in bold lettering and bright colors. The entire class, including myself, was itching to rush out the door when he mentioned that he had one more thing to tell us. Twenty-one pairs of eyes, all revealing some degree of bewilderment or nervousness, followed him to his desk as he picked up a stack of papers with his meaty hands.

"Homework on the first day? C'mon, Mr. A, cut us a little slack," Alex called shamelessly from the back of the room. I rolled my eyes, quickly growing tired of the quarterback's jibes at nearly everything the teacher said. Nonetheless, he took a paper as the rest of us did when it was passed to him.

"This semester, on top of your normal studies, we will be working on what will be your final exam grade: a research paper on a topic of my choosing. You will be joined up with another student in this class, and the two of you will come up with a report that is at least four pages long, complete with title & work cited pages. You will also have to print out the sources of your information and make numbered note cards citing the information on your paper. We won't start on these for another couple of weeks, but before we go… I will assign partners."

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach at the mention of partners on such a major grade. Sure, this was an honors English class that eliminated any possibility of getting stuck with some lazy asshole that would leave me doing all of the work while they stuffed their face with the good food from my fridge. But even in a class with equally intelligent people, there were still some undesirables among the group that I would rather drown in battery acid before working with them and putting my grade on the line.

Maybe Rian's right; my cynicism may just get me in trouble someday.

Nevertheless, I looked around the room - noticing that everyone else was doing the very same thing - and tried to determine just who Mr. Anderson would stick me with. Maybe I'd get lucky and be paired with Hayley or something. She'd pretty much been one of my closest friends since middle school, and had always been a really good songwriter. Maybe that could transfer well into essay-writing?

The wait for him to arrive at my name on the roll wasn't too long; I was always near the top of the list in every class. "And Jack, you will be paired with Alex," Mr. Anderson announced, his voice tinged with what I could almost call pity. Did he really think pairing me with the very guy who enjoyed snarking back at the teachers to get a one-way ticket to detention was a fantastic idea?

"Mr. Anderson, I -" I started before the very person I was going to actually learn to work with rudely interrupted.

"Mr. Anderson, are you sure you put me with the right person? Because this really can't be right," Alex complained. I turned around to get a better look at him, and he seemed as if he were more than just a bit indignant at the thought of working with me. I didn't want to work with him, either - I could think of a billion and one things I would rather do than collaborate with Alex - but did he really have to make a big deal out of it?

"Mm… Yes, I read right, Mr. Gaskarth," the teacher replied with a raised brow after he took a second glance at the roll. "You're both very good students, so I thought the two of you could come up with a fantastic research paper. Is there something wrong?"

I decided against making a scene on the first day for all of the class to gossip about later and shook my head. I was already a loser in the eyes of almost every single person at this God-forsaken school. I didn't need to be labeled as a drama queen as well. Alex, however, must not have shared the same sentiments.

Alex opened his mouth to say something - no doubt to put me down in some fashion while refusing to be my partner - but closed it after a few moments of thought. "Y'know what? Never mind. I think I can deal with _Barakitten_ here." The nickname sent an involuntary shudder down my spine, and the saccharine-sweet tone in which he used it made it ten times worse.

Mr. Anderson rushed to assign partners to the rest of the class, and if there were any better moment for the bell to ring when he finished, I couldn't think of one. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor had never sounded so welcoming, but before I could make my escape to my next class, I heard the sound of well-worn Converse approaching. "So it looks like we'll be seeing a lot more of each other, eh, Jack?" Alex ventured, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I was honestly unsure of why I was threatened by this smaller boy. Maybe it was because he had much more power than I could ever dream of having. If I got on his bad side (which seemed fairly likely at this point), he could probably have me beaten to a pulp or tossed in a dumpster or something.

"Yeah, I guess…" I hesitated a moment before continuing. "Hey, um, look, Alex. I know you don't like me that much, for whatever reason. Honestly, I'm not your number one fan, either. But we're stuck together, and from now until December, after this project is finally over, we're gonna have to play nice."

Alex stared at me with narrowed eyes for a moment, as if he were analyzing my words, before nodding. "It looks like I've got no other choice… Just don't make this any more complicated than it needs to be. We're doing a project together, not trying to be best friends or anything. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."


End file.
